


Warning

by orphan_account



Series: Reunion [4]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker
Genre: Blood, Bruises, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:19:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7489515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A storm rolls in over Outset Island, and nobody is prepared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warning

**Author's Note:**

> From the anonymous commissioner again, who is too good to me. Enjoy!

The storm rolls in without warning.

This, on any regular day, would not be a problem. Or at least, not an _unusual_ problem. It’s not exactly uncommon for a tiny island like Outset to be hit by a big hurricane a few times a year. The thing is, they typically have more time to prepare for a big storm like this. A day or two’s notice, at the very least, to gather everyone and everything indoors, locking shutters and doors as they huddle inside to wait out the brunt of it.

Today, the warning time is about thirty seconds.

Link’s first and only thoughts are not for his own safety—he’s already halfway down the tower’s ladder and knows he can be home in record time—but for that of his Grandmother. She’s inside—sewing, he thinks?—so she should be fine. He’ll have to help her get everything locked up quickly, but that won’t be much of a problem. He’s done it a hundred times before. Then he thinks about Daphnes, who (if he’s remembering correctly) should currently be assisting her in chopping vegetables for that night’s dinner. So they’re both inside and fine, for the time being. Even better, Daphnes can probably help her with the shutters. All that leaves now is—

Aryll.

Earlier that afternoon, she’d said she was going down to the shore to collect shells—some kind of secret project for Grandma’s birthday. It's sweet of her to always think of others—she has a generous heart like that—but that places her on the beach _right now._ Which is the absolute _worst_ place she could possibly be at the given moment.

Link takes off at a sprint towards the water. _Where had she said she was going?_ The problem is, she hadn’t mentioned. He doesn’t know if he’ll find her near their house or all the way on the other side of the island. If it’s the former, well…he can see how tall the waves are crashing already, so he prays with everything in him she’d been smart enough to get away while she still had the chance. And if it’s the latter, he’ll be too late no matter what he d—

But there she is, right near their home, struggling with an armful of shells against the wind. She’s trying to climb the dune—it’s the shortest path back to their house—but her burden and the weather make it nearly impossible. And the dune is rapidly becoming the only intact part of the beach as water floods ever-closer to her persistent form. Link doesn’t even think she knows how close to the waves she is, now.

He runs towards her, grabs her by the arm, urges her to drop what she’s been carrying, and begins the laborious task of pulling her towards safety. She drops the shells willingly and tries to say something back to him—it sounds like an apology, but the wind completely steals her voice away. That’s okay. She’ll have all the time in the world to talk once they’ve reached safety. It’s a lot harder going up than it had been coming down to reach her, but at least they’re making _some_ progress. They might be able to make it. They _might_ be able to—

They _almost_ make it.

A huge wave rises behind them and _rushes_ up the shore. It’s only waist-deep on him (chest-deep for Aryll) but the undertow is enough to knock them both off their feet. Link only has enough time to close his eyes and get in half a breath before he—and Aryll—are sucked beneath the waves.

He’s pretty sure they’re going to die just then. He tries to pull them both above water again, but the riptide had been so fierce in its twisting that he can’t tell which way is up or down. Soon he realizes it hardly matters, because they’re already in depths so far above his head he can’t find the ground anyway. His only point of reference is Aryll’s hand, locked in his, and all he can do is pray she can hold her breath longer than _he_ can, because he is rapidly running out of options and is _just_ about to take in the first of his last breaths when—daylight?

Someone (he has no idea _who_ ) has him around the waist and is holding him above the surface. He loses Aryll’s hand and momentarily panics, but then finds that she is _also_ being held above by this mysterious stranger. He blinks rapidly to clear salt and grit from his eyes—she looks terrified, but unhurt, and he has this person to thank for tha—

A wave crashes over the three of them, and he gets a lungful of saltwater anyway.

He coughs and chokes as he resurfaces, and only then does he get a glimpse of their courageous savior— _Daphnes?_

Of _course_ it is. Now _two_ of the most important people in his life are in mortal danger. Link could just about scream (as if he wasn’t considering that already).

The King must be a strong swimmer—to be able to hold the both of them and still remain above the surface would be a great feat—or maybe he can reach the bottom? He’s much taller than either of them, so that remains a possibility. Still, how had he known where to find them? Why had he put his own life in such peril, knowing the possible consequences? Without a second thought or even a solid plan, he had rushed in after them. How could he just—

But Link looks up again to see that Aryll is still safely above water, having scrambled to sit on the King’s shoulders, and isn’t that what really matters?

Except the undertow is determined not to let them go—try as he might, it’s still pulling Daphnes and his two burdens further out to sea. Link understands enough about undertow to know that you’re supposed to wait it out—to swim parallel to the beach until the riptide lets you go. But that’s all but impossible in these conditions, where visibility is approximately half of what it should be and the wind and waves are as monstrous as the undertow itself.

They’re _all_ going to die like this, then. There’s no romanticizing the situation. Dying together had never been part of Link’s plans—certainly not with his family on the line. He’d wanted them all to survive, long enough to see Aryll’s children, to watch the King become a pseudo-grandfather, to see Tetra again, at least once—

Then he sees something that makes the whole situation a thousand times worse.

A Gyorg fin.

He glimpses it jutting above the waves, almost too quick to get a good look at it before it disappears again. He has a split second to wish and wish he was just imagining it before it’s _definitely_ there a second time, approaching them with the slow kind of deliberateness Link had always hoped was reserved for horror stories alone.

Then it speeds up and _rams_ into them. He hears Aryll scream.

Why it hadn’t just _bitten_ them, he has no idea—maybe it wants to knock them over and immobilize them first? Regardless, Link clenches his eyes shut tight, waiting for the burst of pain he’s sure he should be feeling any second now—after all, with his position in the King’s arms, he should have been right in the middle of the bulls-eye. When no pain comes, he looks around warily—realizing he’s now facing the rocky shoreline (when had they gotten so far away from the beach, anyway?), which can only mean…

The King had taken the entire brunt of the shock, turning his back to the monster to shield Link from the attack.

Link finds himself both furious and amazed. Furious that Daphnes would put himself in the way of mortal danger, but at the same time amazed that he has someone in his life who would be willing to do that for him.

He doesn’t have much time to ponder this, however, as he suddenly realizes Aryll is nowhere to be seen.

 _Immediate_ panic as he tries to scramble out of the King’s arms to look around for his little sister. She’s a good swimmer, but not _this_ good, and with Gyorgs in the water there’s no way she’ll survive this. She’s a goner for sure. Then he catches movement at the shore—she’s climbing the rocks, all the while helplessly looking out towards their predicament. The tremendous blow must have miraculously been enough to throw her from the King’s shoulders and towards the beach, close enough for her to swim to the rocks and escape the treacherous waters.

He would breathe a sigh of relief if all his breathing wasn’t focused on not inhaling seawater.

Link can practically hear the gears in the King’s head turning as he tries to work his way out of the situation. To him, it seems hopeless, but Daphnes is somehow still determined to get them out of this. He admires that kind of tenacity, figuring admiration isn’t too terrible for a “last emotion felt.” Certainly better than terror. Then, sure enough, something must click, because he faces the Gyorg, waves a hand tauntingly, then turns his back to it.

_No._

He wouldn’t do that on _purpose_ , right? There’s no way. He’s _antagonizing_ the fish, why would he ever—? And yet here they are, and Link can only hear rather than see the fin slicing through the water, but he braces himself for impact as—

The air is completely knocked out of him, and he can’t even _imagine_ what it must feel like for his protector. They’re closer, but at what cost? Broken ribs, at the very least? He can hear Daphnes panting hard and knows he has to be in agony. This is all too much. He wishes desperately for this all to be some sort of horrible dream. He can’t watch the King be hurt like this, over and over again, and do nothing. It’s nightmarish, but he can’t pull himself out of it. It can’t be real. It just _can’t._

Still, they’re not quite close enough yet, so he has no choice but to wait for the next shock that is sure to come. Because this isn’t a dream, and if they don’t got to the shore soon, they’re going to die one way or the other.

That’s what does it, and with the Gyorg’s next body-slam, they go shooting through the water towards the rocky beachfront. Though the King tries to shield him as best he can with his arms, there’s no avoiding being smashed into the rocks, and Link is immediately aware of a dozen new bruises he’s sure he’ll feel just as soon as the adrenaline wears off.

Still, they’ve reached the shore, and the Gyorg is… _right there_ , gnashing its teeth in a frenzy as Daphnes attempts to pull them both up out of the water. It catches and tears a chunk off of Link’s shirt, and must catch the King _somewhere_ , judging by his audible gasp, but Link doesn’t have enough time to figure out how or where, as the wind makes every effort to whip them back into the ocean below. Aryll is at the top, wringing her hands nervously, but it isn’t long before they’re able to join her—soaked and bleeding and bruised all over—but alive.

Speaking of bleeding…

Link worms his way out of the King’s arms to get a look at him. He’s visibly oozing blood from at least two Gyorg bites—one around the joint of his elbow and another above his ankle—but he’s standing. Breathing hard, but standing. Link would hate to see the condition of his back right now, having been rammed by the creature so many times, but that’s something they’ll be able to take care of once returned to their home.

So return home they do. Grandma has some choice words for each of them about the dangers of the hurricane, which can still be heard howling ferociously outside. Ultimately, though, emotion gives her away and she offers each of them, wet and dripping just inside the doorway, a hug and a warm towel. She leaves Link in charge of first aid as she herself goes to make them all some soup.

Though Link tries to protest, the King absolutely insists he start his aid with Aryll—all the while holding old towels to his own bleeding wounds. Not having the energy or ability to fight, Link obeys, bandaging both of her scraped knees and carefully wrapping gauze around her hands, the skin badly torn-up from scrambling up the rocks. She has a few toes in the same condition, so they get the same treatment as well before she goes to join their Grandmother in preparation for dinner.  
  
Then it’s on to the King. Damp clothes are shifted out of the way to reveal not two, but _three_ Gyorg bites—one at his hip (and dangerously close to vital organs) that Link had missed in his earlier inspection. Most of the damage is confined to his right side, which Link supposes could either be a blessing or a curse. Meanwhile, the King is silent, allowing Link to gently clean out every little tooth-mark before affixing a large gauze pad to each site. They’re going to scar, he knows, and feels a little pang of guilt at having been partially to blame for this whole mess.

Smaller cuts and scrapes are attended to before Link finally gets to Daphnes’ back. He can’t keep himself from gasping at the mass of bruises he’s sure will only look worse and worse as time progresses.

The King, predictably, chuckles. “That bad?”

Link nods, realizes Daphnes can’t see him from this angle, and reaches out to give his hand a squeeze instead.

“Do not think for a second that I regret my actions,” he returns the squeeze. “I would do the same for you and your sister a thousand times over.” He shifts a little, grimacing. “Though I would have liked the opportunity to fight back against that Gyorg a little. Some things were much easier as a boat, I will admit.”

Link _very nearly_ bursts out laughing, quickly covering his mouth with his hands as not to offend—but the King picks up on it regardless and begins to laugh, himself. It the first moment of true levity after their big scare, and Link is grateful for it.

“Well, I know _one_ thing that is, at the very least, easier to do in this form,” Daphnes smiles. “I believe you have wounds that need tending to, yourself?”

No. Absolutely not. Link shakes his head, taking the King by the hand and pulling him towards the bed. No way is he going to let himself be babied now, not with his father figure in such poor shape. He can reach his own wounds, thank you very much. 

Realizing there’s no use trying to talk him out of it, Daphnes concedes, “Okay, okay, whatever you want,” raising his hands placatingly in the air. “Allow me to supervise your bandaging, at least.”

Supervision, Link will allow—but only from a careful lying-down position with ice-packs gently wrapped close to the worst places on his back. Perhaps understanding that this over-cautiousness stems from the deep worry and fear that almost losing him once again had caused, the King makes no jokes and does not tease as Link carefully positions him in the best way as to avoid re-opening the bites or putting pressure on the darkening bruises.

The King, despite his injuries, is still quite the nag, however, so the next fifteen or so minutes are a drone of, “You missed a spot.” “No, on your arm.” “Your _other_ arm.” “Just let me—no? Please, it’ll be—alright, if you insist.” If he’d had his way _completely_ , Link suspects he would be wrapped up much like a mummy, but in the end it _is_ rather helpful to have someone there to check your blind spots.

Plus it’s just nice to have that extra reassurance Daphnes is well enough _to_ nag him in the first place.

Once all is said and done, Link hops up in bed himself, moving very carefully to avoid jostling its other occupant, and covering them both gently with the blanket. Daphnes shifts, just a little, to make room for the boy, but seems to quickly regret it as his wounds scream at him for the tiny motion. Link gives him a chastising look, all the while taking great comfort and relief at the feeling of another living body so close to his own.

Today had been far more action-packed and stressful than either had planned for, and the King is out within minutes. Link stays awake long enough to hear him begin to snore, and laughs a little to himself. He figures they’re both going to be in immeasurable pain the next morning, so he may as well enjoy it while it lasts.

Still, he has to wonder how he had possibly gotten so lucky to deserve such a courageous person on his side. Willing to put everything aside, even (potentially) his own life, to save his sister and him without a second thought. Before everything, all he’d ever had was Aryll and his Grandmother. And he was happy and content, to live with the two of them. Nowadays, though, he finds it amazing how different life was before the addition of King Daphnes Nohansen Hyrule to their strange little family. He knows now that he can’t honestly picture life any other way.

Maybe it was luck, maybe coincidence, or maybe fate—but Link can’t think of another place he’d rather be right at this exact moment.

With that thought in mind, he figures he can stay up a little while longer—just to watch—knowing Daphnes would do the exact same thing for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me, come yell at me, spam my inbox, etc. at smolhero on tumblr! (Or better yet, commission me!)


End file.
